This race has often been a Pacific Association race & part of the Road Short Course Grand Prix. (This year it was also the USATF Masters Road Mile Championship, which means some REALLY FAST masters were out there competing for an individual national title.) I ran it last year more as a warm body than anything else because we needed three masters women and no one else was available.
To refresh your memory, I had a rough spring of running & racing in 2023. I'd been fighting with various injuries on and off for months and because of that really struggling to run more than 6-7 miles at a stretch, let alone get in anything resembling a workout. I ran an absolute dumpster fire of a 10-miler in early April, then had a bunch of travel over the next two weeks that culminated in getting Covid about a week and a half before the Masters 10K National Team Championships in Dedham, Massachusetts. There were only three of us going at all, and it was really a race against time in terms of testing negative so I could get on the plane in good conscience. (If you've never raced a 10K the week after having Covid, I do not recommend it!) The Mile of Truth was just six days later and I was really, really hoping someone else would end up available, but a couple days out it became clear it was just my two teammates and me.
Because there was no one else, I showed up, definitely not fully recovered from Covid and definitely DEFINITELY not recovered from racing a hilly 10K in the rain while *barely* not sick with Covid. I told the ladies I would do it but just, it would be a gd miracle if I managed to run even *one* sub-seven mile. They said all I had to do was show up and do my best, so that's what I did.
Mile of Truth 2023. My official time was 6:58, so. Who delivers for you, babe?
Now. I am not nor have I ever *really* been a miler, so I wasn't personally invested in my time in this race at all. Though I have sometimes been curious about what kind of time I could run in an all-out mile if I really trained for it and had a good day. A funny thing happened after running this race in 2023, though, which was that I suddenly became really really curious about that, especially given that I knew circumstances were so especially bad for me on THAT day. I resolved there and then to run the race again in 2024 and to be in at least better-than-passable shape for it, even if I didn't specifically train for the mile.
And then what happened?
I actually had four months of *pretty* solid training leading up to Eugene Half, even if the race itself went sort of meh, so I felt like my overall fitness was pretty okay. I had three weeks between the half and the mile of truth, so my coach and I decided we'd just throw in a few vO2 max workouts focusing on short, fast intervals and working on turnover, taper for a few days, and call it good.
I didn't have a ton to go on in terms of time predictions, but I sort of thought that if I had a good day and felt really good, 6:30 was maybe the best case scenario, but I'd at least definitely beat last year's time unless something went truly, horrifically wrong. 😅
Race Day
Last year finding parking at this race had been a bit of a shit show, so I got up a little earlier than strictly necessary so I could have a leisurely drive to Danville. I plugged a Danville Starbucks into Google Maps and arrived there are at about 7:00--plenty of time for a leisurely breakfast of bagel & cream cheese, egg bites, and a triple shot vanilla latte since the masters women's race wasn't until 9:25. And actually that Starbucks turned out to be less than three blocks from the start, so, woohoo! Parking accomplished. I got my bib at about 8:10 and the other ladies started arriving soon after.
Around 8:40ish, we went out on an easy warm-up, just jogging around on the local surface streets and then did a couple laps of the mile course. I did about 2.5 easy miles, then spent a few minutes just before the race doing a few strides & run-outs to get my legs moving, and then at 9:20 we all lined up. I knew I would not be *the* slowest one there but also far from the fastest, so I seeded myself a few rows back from the front. After a few words from the race officials, the gun went off and so did we.
One thing I remembered from last year was that, for all that running an all-out mile is pretty painful, it was over so, so much quicker than I expected. I remember thinking, "You don't have to sprint here, save something for a finishing kick, OH SHIT THERE'S THE FINISH LINE!" There are at least 1/4 mile markers in this race so it doesn't sneak up on you as much as it might otherwise.
Because of that experience, and because I had done at least *some* short, fast prep before this race, I felt more comfortable this year going out faster and getting into that pain cave place much sooner, because I knew it just wouldn't last that long. And yes, it does get super bad super fast, but also what really helped me in this race was kind of repeating over and over to myself, "No regrets, no regrets, no regrets," i.e., I didn't want to cross the line and go, "Ehhh, I could have pushed it a little harder a little sooner, held on for a little longer, etc."
I kept thinking about something Lauren Fleshman wrote in Good for a Girl about racing and suffering, about how in a race you'll ask yourself, "Can you keep suffering? Can you suffer just a little more? Just a little bit longer?" In every race you just see how often you can say yes, and if you can keep saying yes, often enough and for long enough, you (by which I mean Lauren) can win 5Ks (or in my case, run a road mile in a time you're at least a little proud of).
So. Every time I'd be like "DAMN this sucks, this is so painful right now," I'd be like, "But can you do it for just a *little* bit longer?" And because I had a sense that it would be over before I knew it, I just kept saying yes.
When I came around the last corner and could see the finish line, I switched to "Don't quit don't quit don't quit, all the way, all the way, all the way," giving it every last drop I could find.
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- Running the mile is SO MUCH FUN!! In high school I absolutely hated the mile and likened it to the ninth circle of hell and would have actual panic attacks while waiting around to run it (badly), so trust me, no one is more startled by this turn of events than me. Perhaps nine marathons and 30+ half marathons gives you some perspective about these things.
- A lot of what I learned from my sessions with the sports psychologist leading up to the Eugene Half transferred to this race surprisingly well, even though this was a super low stakes thing. (Not that the Eugene Half was particularly high stakes; I just had a lot more time and money invested in it.) It allowed me to approach this race with excitement and curiosity and faith in myself rather than dread and fear.
- I really thought 6:30 would be the ceiling for this race so I was of course thrilled with 6:28. AND I know that I was not even remotely well-trained for the mile, which means there is probably still a faster one in those legs somewhere if I put in a little focused work.
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